The American Monthly Magazine, 第 1 巻Peirce and Williams, 1829 |
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... hour that I wake , and my waking sense is surpassed sometimes my by sleeping - though that is a mystery . There is no sound of simple nature that is not music . It is all God's work , and so harmony . You may mingle and divide and ...
... hour that I wake , and my waking sense is surpassed sometimes my by sleeping - though that is a mystery . There is no sound of simple nature that is not music . It is all God's work , and so harmony . You may mingle and divide and ...
6 ページ
... die . The world has pleasant places , and I would hear in my last hour , the voices , and the birds , and the chance music I may have loved ; but better music , and voices of more ravishing sweetness , 6 Unwritten Music .
... die . The world has pleasant places , and I would hear in my last hour , the voices , and the birds , and the chance music I may have loved ; but better music , and voices of more ravishing sweetness , 6 Unwritten Music .
7 ページ
... hour declines - but what a world of music does the sun shine on ! —the deep lowing of the cattle blend- ing in with the capricious warble of a thousand of God's happy creatures , and the stir of industry coming on the air like the under ...
... hour declines - but what a world of music does the sun shine on ! —the deep lowing of the cattle blend- ing in with the capricious warble of a thousand of God's happy creatures , and the stir of industry coming on the air like the under ...
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... hour , you will hear music . The dry foliage of the summer's shedding is scattered over the ground , and the round , hard drops ring out clearly and distinctly as they are shaken down with the stirring of the breeze . It is something ...
... hour , you will hear music . The dry foliage of the summer's shedding is scattered over the ground , and the round , hard drops ring out clearly and distinctly as they are shaken down with the stirring of the breeze . It is something ...
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... as if my life must stop . But that one minute seemed to me an hour . Before it had expired every event of my life had rushed through my memory , and the awful responsibility of time , and the aggregate of pain 12 Unwritten Music .
... as if my life must stop . But that one minute seemed to me an hour . Before it had expired every event of my life had rushed through my memory , and the awful responsibility of time , and the aggregate of pain 12 Unwritten Music .
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265 ページ - He was the man who of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them not laboriously, but luckily : when he describes anything, you more than see it, you feel it too.
265 ページ - This is mentioned to vindicate tragedy from the small esteem, or rather infamy, which in the account of many it undergoes at this day, with other common interludes; happening through the poets' error of intermixing comic stuff with tragic sadness and gravity, or introducing trivial and vulgar persons; which by all judicious hath been counted absurd and brought in without discretion, corruptly to gratify the people.
434 ページ - Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day; Kiss her until she be wearied out, Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wand— Come, long-sought!
272 ページ - Caesar must bleed for it. And, gentle friends, Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds...
258 ページ - Next, for hear me out now, readers, that I may tell ye whither my younger feet wandered, I betook me among those lofty fables and romances which recount in solemn cantos the deeds of knighthood founded by our victorious kings, and from hence had in renown over all Christendom.
21 ページ - And time and place are lost ; where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand...
168 ページ - O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain's head ; Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, A flood of glory bursts from all the skies : The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.
434 ページ - When I arose and saw the dawn, I sighed for thee; When light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest, Lingering like an unloved guest, I sighed for thee. Thy brother Death came, and cried, Wouldst thou me ? Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, Shall I nestle near thy side ? Wouldst thou me?
432 ページ - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...
382 ページ - ... an unheeded process in the skeleton of a mole, and whose mind like his microscope perceives nature only in detail ; the rhymer who makes smooth verses, and paints to our imagination when he should only speak to our hearts; all equally fancy themselves walking forward to immortality, and desire the crowd behind them to look on. The crowd takes them at their word. Patriot, philosopher, and poet, are shouted in their train. Where was there ever so much merit seen ; no times so important as our own...